


Prognosis: Uncertain

by potionsmaster, ThreeWhiskeyLunch



Series: Normandy Orthopedics [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, Doctor AU, F/M, Gen, Starting Over, crustier old men, crusty coffee mugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 03:11:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7342303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potionsmaster/pseuds/potionsmaster, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeWhiskeyLunch/pseuds/ThreeWhiskeyLunch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an 18 month hiatus, Dr Zaeed Massani rejoins Normandy Orthopedics, the private practice he and his wife both worked at years before.  He's not so certain he's ready to be back, though.  Or even if it's what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prognosis: Uncertain

**Author's Note:**

> So this is some background/backstory info as well as an introduction to the Doctor AU of Normandy Orthopedics. I wasn’t expecting _[Private Practice](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7196897/chapters/16332857)_ to spawn such interest or nearly as many stories to go with as it did, nor was I expecting another author to want to play in my sandbox. But I’m super glad she did, because now it’s ten times more awesome!!! ~potionsmaster
> 
>  
> 
> How amazing is it when you plunk your butt down in another person's sandbox, start rearranging the Tonka trucks, and the person just hands you an action figure and says “The more the merrier!”
> 
>  
> 
> And then it takes over your life and your brain and you abandon all other WIP in favor of two old doctors who only want a second chance at love.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you, my dear friend, for letting me play. ~ ThreeWhiskeyLunch

**_Prognosis: Uncertain_** , by potionsmaster and ThreeWhiskeyLunch  

 

Rating: T for language

 

  


~*~*~*~

  


Eighteen months.

 

Eighteen long months.

 

Eighteen.  Long.   _Fucking_ months…

 

And now he’s back.  Like he had never left, almost.  Miranda still the cut and polished ice princess she always was. Anderson still the practical workhorse. Mordin still the eccentric, wiry little man. Hackett still the respectable, silent figure in the background. As if they've all been in suspension the entire time he's been gone. His office is slightly stale, like the door had been closed too long and all the air had been used up and recycled too many times.  Everything sitting just as he had left it, even the coffee cup he'd used last perched on the corner of his desk, as if it were waiting for him to come polish off the last dregs in the bottom of the cup. He picks it up and peers inside to see the bottom crusted with dried coffee and cream. Zaeed tips the cup in his hand and reads the side-- _There's a chance this contains bourbon--_ a gift from Jessie. He swallows hard and sets the cup down, looks around the office; his mismatched eyes scanning over the framed degrees on the wall, the watercolor of flowers that Jessie had painted, the picture of them (on the beach, the sun in their eyes) and the picture of her (the wind in her hair, Big Ben in the background) sitting on his desk. Her influence is everywhere in this room and it nearly chokes him. His hands sweat and he rubs them on his trousers, sits in the leather chair-- _that she had picked out--_ and slumps down, his head in his hands.

 

_What the fucking hell am I doing here?_

 

It had been a mistake to come back to this. To the empty house too full of her, to this office, this practice where they'd built their life. Better to have stayed away rather than this pain and longing of constant reminders, this empty hole in his chest that threatens to freeze his lungs, squeeze his heart.

 

But if not here, then where? Here is what he knows. Where his few friends are. Here is where his professional life is, although his client base has dispersed, leaves on the wind. It would be easy, perhaps, to leave now when everything is on tenterhooks, his future unclear and unknowable. Pack it all in, go back to London and--what? Start over? The thought fills him with dread. Just as staying fills him with dread.

 

_What's the point? When she's not here?_

 

“Hey…” a husky voice calls out, soft knocking on the door jam.  Zaeed glances up and sees Kaidan Alenko--fresh faced, squeaky clean, and ridiculously styled greaser-like hair--leaning against the frame.  

 

“I just wanted to say, ‘Welcome back’ in person.  I know it must be difficult.  Coming back to... _this_.  With everything.”  

 

Zaeed nods silently, waits for him to continue.

 

“Ever since we got word you were starting back here again, I’ve been telling your previous patients.  Told them I’d ref ‘em back to you if they wanted.  I think every single one burst into smiles and floated off the exam table.”  Kaidan gives him a half-grin.  “All I heard when you were gone was, ‘I miss Dr. Z.  When’s Dr. Z coming back?  Do you have any lollipops or stickers?  Kasumi and Dr. Z _always_ have them.’”

 

“That so.”

 

“Yeah.  Everybody felt it when you were gone.  You left a spot nobody could fill.”  Kaidan nods at the pen in his hand. “Kasumi must’ve really missed you.  She doesn’t give those out to just anybody, you know.  Jack had to beg for weeks before she made her one.”

 

Zaeed looks at the pen his nurse had given him earlier that day.  Kasumi had walked up to him, tapped him on the shoulder, and wordlessly handed over a pen she had tucked in her bun, then simply walked away.  It has a red rose sculpted out of duct tape on the end, of all things. Perfectly ridiculous and utterly Kasumi.  Kaidan clears his throat and stands up.

 

“Anyway, I should really get going.  I’m sorry for the circumstance, but...I’m glad you’re back.  If you need anything...well, just let me know.  See you around.”

 

“S’long.  And Alenko?”

 

The dark-haired man turns around, back ramrod straight and eyebrows raised expectantly.  He can’t hide worth a damn what the military beat into him, apparently.

 

“Thanks…”

 

He receives a warm smile in return.

 

“Anytime.”

 

He sighs and stands up, kicking a box of folders to the side.  Alenko's a good kid.  Maybe a little wet behind the ears still, and he has an earnestness about him that's just plain fucking annoying, still shiny and bright and new.  Makes him sick, almost.  He needs a few more edges in some places and other edges worn down, but he’s alright.  The world could use a little more annoying like that some days.

 

The ache in his heart has eased without him knowing, Kaidan's words ringing in his ears. It's a reminder--unasked for, maybe even unwanted--why he signed up for this, why he does what he does. And why Jessie had come along for the ride.

 

“Hey, boss. Meeting’s in five minutes,” Kasumi appears where Alenko had been standing. “Get your ass up there.”

 

‘Yeah, yeah. I'm going.” He sighs and hands her the dirty cup. “Can you see to it this gets washed? Think a goddamn life form has spawned in there.”

 

She takes the cup and peers into the depths. “Gross.”

 

He smirks and makes his way upstairs. What was it Jessie used to say? _New day, Zaeed. Anything can happen on a new day._ He sighs and hopes she was right. He'll stay. For now.

  
See what happens.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
